


kiss kiss bang bang

by shuttermutt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Facials, M/M, Makeup, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:09:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuttermutt/pseuds/shuttermutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loses a bet and has to wear lipstick. Zayn finds himself unable to look at anything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss kiss bang bang

**Author's Note:**

> based off the tags on [ivy](http://writeivywrite.tumblr.com)'s [post](http://writeivywrite.tumblr.com/post/61014825985/x). sorry it's been so long since i last posted. i'm the worst. not betaed, sorry.

Zayn doesn’t pay much attention to what the other boys are doing in the living room, because he largely doesn’t pay attention when they’re being loud and shouting about nothing. He has other, more important things to do. And yes, they _are_ important, _Louis_ , even if he doesn’t tell the other boy what they are. So when he hears the loud, anguished cry from the other room, he doesn’t really pay it much mind.

That is, until Harry walks into the room with a high flush on his cheeks and lipstick on his mouth.

“Um.” Zayn feels frozen in place. He’s sitting on Louis’ bed, propped up against the headboard, and he has no clue what to say.

Harry’s mouth is bright pink, now. A few shades lighter than the dark pink it usually is. Not that Zayn spends a lot of time looking at Harry’s mouth and trying to identify the shade of pink it usually is. Not at all.

“I’m the prettiest girl at the ball,” Harry mumbles sullenly, flush darkening on his cheeks and spreading down his throat.

The words make absolutely no sense, but the flush is doing awful things to Zayn’s mind. Notably, he’s started to wonder if the flush extends all the way down when Harry is getting his dick touched or sucked (or when he’s getting fucked).

“Can I take this off, now?” Harry asks. He looks behind him, and Zayn finally notices that Louis is lounging in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and smug look on his face. 

Louis is looking directly at Zayn, as if he can see every single thought going through his head and it amuses him. He takes a few seconds to hum thoughtfully before shaking his head. “I don’t think so, doll. You lost the bet, so you have to wear it for the rest of the night.”

Harry pouts, fidgets uncomfortably, then finally shrugs. “Fine. But I’m not saying anymore dumb stuff.”

That breaks the weird tension in Zayn’s body and he laughs. It sounds too high-pitched and off-kilter, but it’s better than the creepy staring he’s been doing up to now. “Mate. What did you do to deserve that?”

“He said he could beat me at FIFA, 10-0,” Louis says, sounding more smug than the look on his face.

“What was the score?” 

“0-4.”

Zayn shakes his head. Harry should know better than that by now. No one tells Louis he can’t do something unless they want him to prove he can. “Tough break, babe.”

Harry’s cheeks go back to that pretty red colour when Zayn lets the endearment slip. “Whatever.” He leaves the room, brushing past Louis with possibly more force than necessary.

“That’s not very lady-like behaviour, Styles!” Louis crows out, following him quickly. They’re still squabbling as they move away from the bedroom.

Zayn makes himself wait five whole minutes before getting up and heading out after them.

-

Niall has probably had too much to drink. Every time he looks over at Harry, with his pink painted mouth, he loses it. Zayn knows it’s a little funny, seeing a mate have to do a forfeit after losing a bet, but this just isn’t funny, to him.

He can’t stop looking at Harry’s mouth, is the thing. It’s always a bit distracting—Zayn has overheard more than one person, male and female, comment on the fact that he has the perfect lips for oral sex—but never to the point where Zayn can’t focus on anything else.

Liam doesn’t seem to know whether to laugh or offer Harry a tissue, and Louis just keeps grinning that infuriating know-it-all grin whenever he catches Zayn’s eye. They’ve been of the X-Factor tour for a few months, now, and everything is so weird and new. Living so close together, working so close together all the time. Zayn feels like he’s suffocating, sometimes, by being around them all the time.

Right now, he just feels like he’s suffocating because of that damn lipstick.

“I think I’ll head back to mine, lads,” Liam says, standing up and stretching. Zayn lets his gaze flicker to him when his shirt is pulled up, but his gaze doesn’t last. “I’m beat.”

“You should stay here!” Louis says, grinning. “You can kip with me. Zayn and Harry can share, and Niall can have the couch.”

“Tha’s not fair,” Niall mumbles, face half-pressed into the couch cushion. He’s already nearly asleep, so he doesn’t put up too much of a fight.

“It’s very fair.” Louis ruffles Niall’s hair even though it makes him grumble and half-heartedly swat at him. “Sleep well, Nialler.”

Liam is looking awkwardly at Louis. “We don’t have to share. I’m just down the hall.” He’s gotten so much better, but Zayn understands where Liam’s reluctance comes from. Louis is brash and loud and holds nothing back. It can be overwhelming.

“Yeah, Louis. What if I don’t want to share?” Harry asks, finally piping up. He’s been unusually quiet since he lost the bet. It’s good, because every time he says something, Zayn can’t look away from his mouth, and it’s becoming a little much.

“No need to be so greedy, Harold,” Louis says. “You’re hurting Zayn’s feelings.”

“Don’t think he is, really.” Something other than Zayn’s feelings is what’s being hurt.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, pouting. “Fine.”

Zayn would feel offended, but he’s pretty sure Harry is still feeling raw over the bet. “C’mon,” he says, instead. He runs his hand over Niall’s back, already lifting regularly with sleep. “Night, lads,” he tells Louis and Liam.

They parrot it back and Zayn wanders away to Harry’s room, Harry trailing behind him silently. 

When they get to his room, they stand awkwardly beside the bed. Zayn is no longer sure this is a great idea, sleeping next to Harry when he’s feeling so mixed-up about him over the stupid lipstick.

“I should wash this off,” Harry says, interrupting the silence.

“You should leave it on.”

The words leave Zayn’s mouth before he can even think about it. He turns to face Harry, because he can’t take it back, now. Harry is staring at him with wide eyes, the pink returning to his cheeks. Zayn never knew Harry blushed this much.

“What?” Harry’s voice cracks. It reminds Zayn of how painfully _young_ Harry is, sometimes. The lipstick makes him look young, too.

It’s dulled over the hours of talking and eating and drinking, but it’s still there. Still shockingly pink against Harry’s face. Zayn thinks about what it would look like if Harry put his mouth on his hips and left marks there.

“It looks good on you.”

They’ve had something between them, Zayn and Harry, since they first met. Harry was charming and baby-faced and Zayn was just awkward, but their arguments always had a tension in them that Zayn has only recently realised is probably sexual tension. He knows he’s not picky, when it comes to sex, and Harry is pretty open about the fact that he likes guys as well as girls. The only thing that’s kept Zayn from doing anything thus far is the band, how new it is and how determined he is to make sure they stay together. He doesn’t think he could do this on his own, anymore.

Harry must be thinking along the same lines, because he looks a bit apprehensive. But that goes away before Zayn can start to second-guess himself, and he smiles. His dimple is a pop of shadow next to the pink. “You think so?”

“Mmhm.”

The confirmation seems to be enough to break the tension between them. Harry steps forward, moving closer to Zayn. He goes heavy-lidded and his tongue pokes out, licking over his bottom lip slowly. It’s a different pink than the lipstick and the flash of it makes Zayn go hard blindingly fast in his trousers.

“That’s a bit perverted, isn’t it?” Harry asks, ducking his head and looking up at Zayn from beneath his bangs. There’s not much height difference between them, but Harry slouches, and his stance now makes Zayn feel taller and bigger. It’s nice. “You get off to boys in makeup, Malik?”

“I don’t see you complaining.”

Harry slips to his knees so quickly and seamlessly that Zayn sees white for a second. “I can help with that problem,” he says, nodding at where Zayn is obviously tenting his trousers. “If you want.”

Zayn wants.

“Well, you are the cause,” he says softly, reaching out and carding his fingers through Harry’s curls. He snags a knot and carefully untangles it while Harry leans into his hand and makes a soft, appreciative sort of noise. 

“I’ll take the forfeit.” Harry quickly undoes Zayn’s belt and trousers, sliding them down his legs so they pool around his calves. He goes after his briefs, next, drawing them slowly down his hips. His eyes go wide when Zayn’s cock bobs up, smearing against his shirt. “Oh, wow.”

Zayn bites his bottom lip. “You’ve done this before?” He’s worried Harry will tell him no.

Harry just takes him in hand, angles him down and puts his mouth around the head, sucking hard enough that Zayn thinks he might actually die. It’d be the best way to go, he thinks. Especially when Harry pulls away, string of spit connecting them, and Zayn sees the pink smear he’s left on his skin.

“Oh, God.”

Harry grins up at him, mouth wet-slick and pink-smeared, and gets back to it. He slides his mouth back over Zayn’s cock, going down until his mouth meets his fist. He’s not the most refined, but he’s enthusiastic and gets everything wet, which Zayn loves. He uses his fist where his mouth isn’t, fisting Zayn tight and fast.

He’s so loud, slick noises filling the room and making Zayn rock his hips forward, even though Harry’s fist keeps him from thrusting in too far. It’s so good and Zayn doesn’t want it to end so quickly, but he hasn’t gotten laid in so long.

He tugs on Harry’s curls, says, “I’m close.”

Harry pulls away, making Zayn cry out. “Can we get on the bed?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.”

They make their way to the bed, Zayn stumbling out of his pants and trousers, pulling his shirt off as well, while Harry scrambles out of his clothing. He’s hard, head flushed red and drooling precome against his stomach already. He sprawls on the bed, looking flushed and edible, mouth still stained pink.

“You’re so wet,” Zayn says, marvelling aloud. He gets his hand around Harry, then, ignoring his own aching cock. He wants to touch so badly, and Harry makes the _sweetest_ noise when Zayn starts to jerk him off, strokes made easy by his precome. 

Zayn can’t help but watch as Harry’s cock slips through his fist so easily. It’s beautiful, in its own way. It’s also beautiful when he looks up and watches Harry’s face. His eyes are clenched shut, flush high on his cheeks and spread down his neck and chest, just like Zayn thought it would be. He’s biting his bottom lip, so the lipstick is smearing even worse than before. His mouth is slick and bitten raw and Zayn wants to do some of his own biting.

He’s not sure if it’s alright—some blokes only think it’s okay to mess with guys if they don’t kiss—but Zayn has wanted to put his mouth on Harry’s all night. He doesn’t let himself think about it, just leans up and kisses him, licks across his bottom lip and frowns at the taste of the waxy lipstick.

Harry makes a desperate noise, lunges up and wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck, pulling him back down with him. His mouth, when he opens it, is warm and wet and tastes vaguely of beer, but Zayn likes it. It tastes a little bitter and salty, too, and Zayn knows that’s _him_.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says as he pulls away.

“Shut up.” Harry is so flushed, fucking up into Zayn’s touch like he can’t help himself. 

Zayn speeds up his hand. “It’s true. You’re so pretty, so lovely. I just want to wreck you.”

His words push Harry over the edge and he comes, making a mess of Zayn’s hand and his own belly. He goes slack-jawed as he comes, eyes squeezed shut so tight, pink tongue visible between his lips. 

“God,” Zayn groans. “I just want to come on your face.”

“You can.” Harry opens his eyes, panting. His cock twitches in Zayn’s hand, another blurt of come spilling out. “I want you to.”

“Oh, fuck.” Zayn has to close his eyes for a moment, to gather himself. If he’s not careful, he’ll come the moment he gets his hand on himself, and that’s too embarrassing. He gets himself together and makes his way up Harry’s body, planting his knees on either side of his chest. It traps Harry’s arms between them, and Harry puts his hands on Zayn’s back.

“Please,” he says softly, eyes wide and mouth already parted.

Zayn takes his cock in his own hand, still slick from Harry’s come, and groans. It’s so dirty, doing that, but it makes his dick twitch at the thought. He squeezes himself tightly at the base, trying to keep it together, but the way Harry is looking at him, is clutching at his back and licking his lips is too much. Zayn jerks himself quickly, a handful of times, and feels his orgasm being ripped from his body.

He comes across Harry’s mouth, over his nose and down his chin, one line landing in his curls before he can stop himself. Zayn shivers as he pulls his hand away from his cock, too sensitive after. Harry leans up before he can move his and away and takes his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them to clean them off. Most of his lipstick is gone, but there’s enough to smear against Zayn’s palm. His dick tries to perk up in interest, but it’s too soon.

Harry leans back once he’s cleaned Zayn’s hand, looking smug and used. His face is a complete mess, but Zayn still leans down to kiss him.

“You’re a mess,” he says once he pulls away.

“You caused it.” Harry licks his lips and doesn’t even make a face at the taste. “Think you want to clean me up?”

Before Zayn can answer, there’s a loud banging on the wall, and Louis shouts, “I’ll take a hose to both of you if you don’t shut the fuck up!”

Harry barks out a laugh and Zayn rolls off of him, laughing into the sheets.


End file.
